Vanished by E. E. Cooper

you or stops by, you need to call us right away, do you understand?” His voice was harsh.
    I nodded before I realized he couldn’t see me. “Okay,” I whispered. I opened my mouth to say I was sorry, but he’d already hung up. I stared at the phone as if I expected it to spring to life and do something, but it was just a phone. I turned to my mom. “Britney didn’t come home for dinner. Her parents are freaking out.”
    â€œI know. They’re concerned about her.”
    I waited for her to tell me that everything was going to be okay, but she didn’t. “I should take a shower,” I mumbled. The air on my sweaty skin gave me shivers.
    â€œI wonder if you should talk to Dr. Sherman.” Momtried to sound casual, but I knew there was nothing casual about the suggestion.
    â€œI don’t need to see anyone,” I said. I clenched my hands to make sure they wouldn’t start fluttering around. I didn’t need therapy. I needed my friends to come back.
    â€œYou’ve got a lot on your plate these days,” Mom said. “It’s normal to find it upsetting.”
    â€œI’m fine,” I insisted. I could tell she was trying to decide if she wanted to push it. “All right, I’m not fine, but I’m okay. I’m dealing.”
    â€œI wish I could save you from feeling anxious,” Mom said. I knew she felt guilty. There’s a genetic component to OCD anxiety, and even though I didn’t have it nearly as bad as my grandma, I could tell my mom still felt responsible. Genetics can be a real bitch. Personally, I was more upset that I’d gotten my dad’s giant flipper feet, but saying so probably wouldn’t help.
    â€œI think being seventeen means I have to be anxious. It’s part of the job description,” I said, trying to make things lighter.
    Mom didn’t smile. “Maybe all this is a good reminder that it’s important to spend time with your other friends. Not just being all wrapped up in Britney and Beth.”
    My jaw clenched. “I like Beth and Brit.” I didn’t mention that my “other friends” weren’t real friends at all, just people I hung out with. If I told her that, she’d be even more convinced I needed some kind of help.
    Mom held up her hands. “I like them too, but they’re intense.”
    â€œYou don’t even know them,” I protested.
    â€œIt isn’t that I don’t like them . . .”
    â€œBut?” I crossed my arms, creating a barrier between us.
    â€œThere are some people who collect more than their fair share of trouble. I’m not saying it’s their fault, but they do. It’s my job as your mom to want to keep you out of it.”
    Too late. When it came to Beth and Brit, I was already in deep.
    Beth stole a bottle of her dad’s bourbon and we took it out to Lighthouse Park .
    â€œWill you get in trouble for taking his booze?” I grabbed a few more pieces of driftwood and stuffed them in the fire pit. I rubbed my hands on my jeans trying to get them warm, but my fingers felt stiff and clumsy from the cold .
    Beth had her turtleneck sweater pulled up over her chin. “This?” She waved the bottle. “My dad goes through so much he hardly knows what he has anymore. He won’t miss it.”
    I touched the match to the dry beach grass under the sticks and blew on it. I tried to buffer the small fire from the wind with my body. I didn’t want to fail after I’d bragged I could do it .
    â€œLook at you—you’re a regular Girl Scout.”
    I couldn’t tell if Beth was impressed or making fun of me, but either way, the attention made me glow. “A few years ago my dad got it in his head that we were going to become campers,”I said. “We bought all the gear and took a daylong class on how to forage, build a shelter, escape from bears, that kind of thing.” The fire